


Guiding Hands

by AngelWalkingTheStars



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blind Character, Deaf Character, F/M, Falling In Love, I Tried, I'm Bad At Summaries, My First AO3 Post, Short One Shot, So I just quoted the funniest part of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWalkingTheStars/pseuds/AngelWalkingTheStars
Summary: “You see...” he begins, hesitant. “I mean… as you can see… I'm kind of… deaf.”She blinks unseeing eyes at that. She assumes he's pointing at a hearing aid by his words, and his tone sounds too genuine to be making fun of her, so…“Well, I can't really see what you mean there. I am, sort of, you know, blind.”





	Guiding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work to have been posted on AO3. Honestly, I wasn't expecting it to be an original one. I wrote this for my school's literary magazine one year, but otherwise, it's unbetaed, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it. Thank You!

Darkness.

_ Was it always this hard to see? _

* * *

 

“Ma'am, I'm sorry to inform you that you have lost any ability to see out of either of your eyes.” 

A voice cold with apathy and practiced concern. A too harsh hand giving her shoulder a too harsh squeeze. A mocking sneer in his words. Icy eyes that... she can't even see anymore. She shivers anyway. 

“Thank you, sir.”

* * *

 

The familiar weight supported across her thumb and forefinger. The smell of ink smears across her hands. The feel of light indentations under her fingers. The taste of the eraser grasped anxiously between her teeth. The words don't come. She couldn't write them even if they did.

“Mind if I sit here?”

She jolts in surprise, instinctively looking up through dark, circle glasses, cane held protectively close. 

“No.”

The ruffle of clothing as the man plops ungracefully down next to her. Their fingers accidentally brush, and she jerks away, withdrawing further into herself.

“Sorry.” His words come out heavy and a bit unsure, as if not trusting his own voice, but she can still hear the smile in it through the nervousness and guilt. Shaking her head, she murmurs a soft “it's alright” before continuing her attempts at translating the bumps and spaces beneath her fingers.

“I'm sorry; could you repeat that?” the man asks. He sounds only uncertain now, as if he were lost in an unknown city, unused to the bustling and fast-paced environment around him. This must somehow show on her face, for the man immediately begins rambling, words mixing into incoherent vowels and consonants. Despite herself, she finds a smile curling her lips; the man before her is strangely endearing. A soul-wracking sigh escapes his lips, and there's just so much  _ emotion _ in that one action that she herself feels  _ every single day _ . 

“You see...” he begins, hesitant. “I mean… as you can see… I'm kind of… deaf.” 

She blinks unseeing eyes at that. She assumes he's pointing at a hearing aid by his words, and his tone sounds too genuine to be making fun of her, so…

“Well, I can't really  _ see _ what you mean there. I am, sort of, you know,  _ blind. _ ”

* * *

 

He hadn't realized that she was blind. She thinks she might have found someone worthwhile in her too dark world.

* * *

 

His name is Samuel.

(And the irony of his name’s meaning doesn't surpass her notice either. “God has heard.”)

He's an ex-military man who was discharged after a bomb had almost completely impaired his hearing. 

He smiles with his words and takes her to orchestra concerts instead of movies.

He makes jokes and can't handle anything spicy, but he lets her drag him to Thai restaurants anyway.

He takes her to the park and describes everything that's going on around them, and she will listen to his words and then describe all of the different sounds that blur and blend and  _ sing _ around them. 

He carries her through the door in his arms when they first move in together even though she keeps telling him they're not married. “Not yet,” he'll whisper each time, and she always finds herself believing him. 

He teaches her to write again and that is the  _ greatest gift _ that anyone could possibly give her.

* * *

 

They stand on the pier together one night. 

It's one of their favorite spots because even if she can't see and he can't hear, they both love the smell, the taste, the feel. They don't talk, and it's peacefully quiet and beautiful that night. No words need to be spoken. 

And then, softly, he takes her hand in his, and she tilts her head towards him curiously. He takes her forefinger, no doubt smeared with ink and graphite stains, and pushes a small, delicate ring on her finger. She gasps and tears come to her eyes, overflowing with joy.

“Will you marry me?” he whispers, voice thick with hope and watery with his own tears. 

She smiles and nods.

* * *

 

This man. This beautiful, magnificent man with his smiling words and bad jokes and uncanny kindness found her in the dark. She doesn't plan on letting go of his guiding hand anytime soon.


End file.
